Forget pumpkins and sweater weather—deep in the Los Angeles suburbs, it’s chili-grinding season. Huy Fong Foods, makers of the Sriracha Hot Chili Sauce, open their doors to the public from August until October 17th for free tours of the factory where the fiery “rooster sauce” is created.
My golden ticket was a space in a friend’s car. Reservations are made in advance—as many people as can fit per carload, due to limited parking. but since Angelenos are allergic to carpooling, plans got shaky at the 11th hour, until finally a friend-of-a-friend gave me her parking pass, meaning I could take my own vehicle (and posse), with the understanding that I’d have to use her name. I am so not a “Barb,” but I forged her signature on the agreement form anyway, waltzing through security (amid flashbacks of that time I almost went to Costco jail after getting busted for using my former boss’ membership card. They let me off with a warning.)
Huy Fong’s extensive list of rules includes no open-toed shoes (another difficulty for us Angelenos), no weapons, no unsecured jewelry, no smoking, no coughing or sneezing into the food, and a specific request to refrain from spitting. All seemingly reasonable guidelines.
We were handed hairnets and beard-nets while we waited in line with dozens of other fans. Friendly employees kept us on track, probably wondering why anyone would choose to be there on this 100-degree Saturday when we were free to go to the beach, the mountains or anywhere other than the godforsaken industrial town of Irwindale. (The city almost threw Huy Fong Foods out a year ago after residents complained of a “spicy odor,” but the allegations disappeared into hot air when the lawsuit was later dropped behind closed doors. The waiting area in front of the building was completely odorless if a little smoggy from nearby rock quarries, by the way.)
It’s not so much a guided tour as a quick herding through the clean, bustling factory. After an uneventful walk through a simple maze of stanchions, a smiling employee offered us tissues just before we viewed tons of jalapenos dumped from a truck on to a conveyor belt. Of course I passed on the tissues, knowing the rules. Then a garlicky tickle crept up my throat and into my eyes. Suddenly everyone around me was coughing. I repeatedly cleared my throat in an effort to suppress that shit. (Rule #7)
